Hannibal Ad Portas
by DiamondStandard
Summary: The U-Men have attacked the Institute and forced the X-Men underground. Can Emma Frost survive living off the grid long enough to find out what the zealots are up to?


"With the negative punishment, you are taking away something…"  
Emma Frost, once infamous White Queen and current teacher of psychology, gave pause from her lecture. Something was off. Most of the students were asleep with their eyes open, their heads precariously perched in their upraised palms and faces devoid of any semblance of expression (or intelligence?). Some might actually have been drooling a bit, how unsightly. It was none of them. Pursing her lips, the blonde telepath skimmed the surface thoughts of everyone within her reach. But the school was peaceful-or what one might consider passing for peaceful at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. Students were in classes at the moment, it was the final hour for the day. The advent of evening was at hand with the sun hanging lazily between noon and sunset. The Danger Room was in use, no doubt Logan working off whatever feral itch challenged human respectability at the moment with his usual cohorts, Kurt and Piotr. Hank was in his lab and Scott in his office. The library was-for the moment-intact. No brawls or bravado threatening the structural integrity of the property. It was…peaceful. So what set her ill at ease? Emma grimaced, pressing her senses outward, searching for the thoughts of this unseen threat.  
"Pass these around…"  
There!  
Someone let slip their psychic shielding, the White Queen detected a glimmer of their thoughts.

"Miss Frost…?" One of the students peeped from the back of the room. Emma hast trailed off and remained silent for far longer than she should have. The response that came was not what the child expected: "WE'RE UNDER ATTACK!" The White Queen's telepathic voice rang out, reverberating through ever skull with the utmost urgency. But her alert may have come too late. From the classroom window, Emma could just barely make out the front gate of the school. A large, black van approached the gates at a high speed, predictably crashing through the rod iron. Behind it came more vans. It was an invading army. And she couldn't sense any of them!

"Go!" Emma barked to her students, darting a well manicured finger towards the door of the class room. "Follow the evacuation procedures! You've trained for this, now go! Go! Go!" Trained for this indeed! No school should have 'invasion procedures!' This was not the first time the school had been attacked. This would not be the last time, either. In all likelihood, this would also not be the first time the school has been destroyed. Nor the last. Alarms began to sound. Students began following the exits to a safe route beyond the school grounds. The X-Men, however, went in another direction: to the front door. No time to get dressed in impressive matching uniforms with spectacular contour and accentuating lines. Damn. And she loved these Jimmy Choos.

Five vans in total crowded the front door of the Xavier's School. As one, the doors opened and the occupants emptied out. They were a laughable bunch, dressed from head to toe in clunky environmentally controlled suits. The U-Men. Nutty fanatics who wanted to graft on mutant anatomy to make themselves superior, whole, or some nonsense. This ought to be an easy beat down.

The events that followed seemed to pass in slow motion.

The X-Men braced themselves for whatever stolen mutant abilities these zealots had to dish out. The familiar coldness of her flesh turning to diamond crept over her, bringing with it blessed silence from the endless hum of other people's thoughts, feelings, and rapports. The first group U-Men began unzipping their suits. Managed, scarred beings that hardly bore resemblance to humanity emerged from the chrysalises, provoking an involuntary gag response from the White Queen. The vivisection process had not been kind to these men. But revulsion had to wait; they passed on the customary monolog and advanced into battle. The first group was barely within striking range when the second wave began shedding their suits. From these people came a brilliant, blinding light. And then the first group began exploding. The second wave had struck down their own in their effort to destroy the X-Men!

Doused in human remains, Emma was rocked by the concussive force of the attack. She was knocked out cold.

…

…

…  
…

So course. With all the comfort of a brillo pad. It chaffed against her skin. Twitching once as awareness of her surroundings slowly began to get pieced together in her mind, Emma's eyes rolled open, not quite able to focus. The offensive fabric, putrid off white walls and yellow florescent lighting, garish décor. Dear God! She was in some motel! Emma Frost jumped into an upright position, a faint shriek of terror escaping her lips. And immediately she regretted it. Her world spun at a starling pace as a skull-splitting pain threatened to return her to unconsciousness. Exactly how Emma managed to brace herself against the presto board nightstand and bring herself to a standing position was unclear. But finding herself on legs about as stable as newborn calf, she looked around the gouache environment with nausea unrelated to the head injury she somehow incurred in…battle?

Where were the others? How did she get here? Where was here exactly? What happened to the U-Men, the school? Fighting past the discomfort, she reached out with her mind only to be sent reeling from a new wave of pain. Emma fell back onto the worn double bed, which screeching in protest from her dead weight.

"You really oughtn't do that."

The voice was distant, grabbled. She could not recognize it through the acute agony overwhelming her senses.

"Where…?" Was all she managed.

"Motel 6. Not your usual digs, but that was sort of the idea. They won't think to look for us here..."

"Why…?" She grit her teeth against the pain in her head.

"Those zealots didn't just attack the school, they compromised our identities, accounts, online presence. They laid out a paper trail. The long and short of it this: We're now on multiple government radars that we've got no business being on. We need to lay low."

The voice grew more distant as Emma succumbed to the pain, plunging into darkness of unconsciousness. 


End file.
